


True Love's Kiss

by defractum (nyargles)



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M, Magic, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-14
Updated: 2015-02-14
Packaged: 2018-03-12 07:36:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,981
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3348980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nyargles/pseuds/defractum
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Enjolras is cursed, but true love's kiss cures all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	True Love's Kiss

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Rianne](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rianne/gifts).



> Hello! I'm awfully sorry this is a bit rushed and short my dear, but it was a pinch-hit and I wanted you to have something to read on time!

"You don't want to go in there," says Combeferre, and he almost sounds apologetic about it, which means it's really bad.

"What happened?" asks Grantaire, taking a moment to put his hands on his knees and regain his breath. He'd come over as soon as he'd got the message, which meant harnessing up some of the power he'd been saving over the last few weeks to pull together a transportation portal. It had got him here quickly, sure, but the burbling nausea isn't likely to dissipate for a few hours.

"Enjolras was cursed," says Combeferre, which had been all the message had said. "There was an attempt – it's complicated. There was a kidnap attempt, but Marius showed up and thwarted it –"

" _Marius_ saved Enjolras?" asks Grantaire in disbelief.

"But the curse had already been set. So –"

The door opens, and Grantaire straightens. Instead of Enjolras, however, Marius walks out. When he sees Grantaire, he blushes a horrific shade of red so quickly and so violently that Grantaire half worries that Marius is the one who's been poisoned. "I'm sorry," says Marius miserably. "Oh Grantaire, I'm so, so sorry."

"What is going on?" asks Grantaire, fear seeping in. He staggers – another side effect of the portal, probably, and Combeferre and Marius each grab a hold of one of his elbows, and steer him onto the living room sofa.

"Enjolras has been cursed," says Marius, and Grantaire bites his tongue when he wants to point out that he already knows that, thanks, and he'd like to know the details. "He's, er. Well, he _believes_ that he's–"

"He's in love with Marius," says Combeferre.

"What." Grantaire stares at him for a long moment; the words refuse to process because it sounds so absurd.

The front door bursts open. Courfeyrac and Jehan barrel in, bringing with them a gust of brisk Spring air. "I got your text," gasps Courfeyrac as he and Jehan furiously untangle the scarves from around their necks before they strangle themselves in their frenzy. "We got here as fast as we could – Grantaire! Aren't you supposed to be in Asia somewhere?"

"I portalled back," says Grantaire, feeling the accompanying bile attempting to rise in his throat at the reminder. He swallows it ruthlessly. Courfeyrac grimaces sympathetically; he knows the toll portalling takes on a person's body.

"What's wrong with Enjolras?" demands Jehan, skipping over the nicities for once, not that Grantaire can blame him.

Grantaire looks at him with wide, glassy eyes. "Enjolras is in love with Marius."

"...Oh," says Jehan, taken aback. "I mean, did he say so in so many words? Because –"

"It was a love spell," interrupts Combeferre wearily. "He was supposed to fall in love with Eponine."

"Who's Eponine?" asks Courfeyrac.

"The Jondrette girl," says Grantaire, frowning. "I've seen her before, hanging around our meetings. I mean, before I left. I thought she was in love with –"

"She is," says Combeferre curtly, and the two of them exchange significant glances before looking over at Marius, who is curled into a small ball on the end of the sofa, still looking mortified and clearly not paying any attention to what they're saying, thank goodness.

"Why would anyone want Enjolras to fall in love with her?" asks Courfeyrac impatiently. "I'm sure she's a great person, but – "

"Her parents are the Thernadiers," says Combeferre, pointing to his laptop, where there are at least a dozen tabs open. He's obviously been doing his research from the moment he found out about the curse. "They're the –"

"Black witches in town," finishes Courfeyrac. "And really against the ban on black magic we're trying to get passed. Yes, I remember when their goons attacked our last public meeting. So if Enjolras is in love with their daughter then perhaps he'd back down? What sort of ridiculous half-baked plan is this?"

"But I stopped them," says Marius from the end of the sofa, still looking very disorientated, but slightly pleased with himself. "They had him drugged so he couldn't move and were going to port him out of here, but I grabbed his ankle and stopped him going through the portal." He wilts. "And then he opened his eyes and saw me and fell in love with me."

Grantaire laughs. He can't help it, it just bursts out of him in a hysterical, high pitched stream of giggles. "Oh, fuck me," he says, hiccuping in his haste to swallow the laughter back down. It doesn't help. "I know, it's not funny. But. It is. Oh, fucking hell." Everyone stares at him, and slowly, a reluctant smile spreads across Courfeyrac's face, and then Jehan's, and even a smile whispers across Combeferre's. Marius watches them all, bemused, as they all shudder with the effort of trying not to laugh. "I really missed you guys," says Grantaire eventually, wiping the tears from his eyes.

They settle down after a while. Jehan suggests getting Enjolras to come out here, but Marius squeaks, and Combeferre's eye twitches, so they sit in a circle on the rug instead and talk about common cures for curses. "Bahorel and Feuilly are already watching the Thernadiers, trying to see if they've got any antidotes on them. They're going to try and break into the house if there aren't too many wards, but I told them to be careful."

"I brought all the usual spellcasting items with me," says Jehan, opening his backpack. "And Joly gave me a bunch of potions he had, and is making up some more. So we can try all the usual remedies."

Combeferre nods approvingly. "I gave him a couple of vials of Cure All, which was all we had in the flat, but I suspect it didn't work. I've got some pages up of other things, mostly rituals or spells that we can try too."

"What about... you know?" asks Grantaire hesitantly.

Jehan frowns. "What?"

"You know. True love's kiss?"

Everyone stares at him for a long moment. "Grantaire," says Jehan slowly. "What are you suggesting?"

"I'm not suggesting anything," says Grantaire, suddenly waspish, and sinks his head into his hands."I'm just saying. It's the universal cure."

"You said you were over him," says Jehan gently.

Grantaire groans. "I lied. Why do you think I'm doing my Apprenticeship halfway across the world when there's perfectly good wizards to learn from right here in town?"

"It's worth a shot," says Combeferre slowly, which is as close to official approval as they'll get.

When he stands to go and knock on Enjolras's bedroom door, Enjolras groans, sounding tired and rough and out of it. "Go away, please."

"Hey," says Grantaire. "Jehan's here and got a bunch of potions for you to try."

"Grantaire?" Enjolras sounds surprised. "I thought you were in Cambodia."

"I was," says Grantaire dryly. "I guess the news of you getting yourself cursed was enough to make me come all the way back."

"You didn't have to," says Enjolras, sounding distressed. "I'm fine! I mean, mostly fine, apart from the being in love bit. Being in love is horrible."

Grantaire laughs softly, and rests his head against the door. "Yeah, it is." He closes his eyes. "Enjolras. Come on. Open up."

There's a long pause. "Alright. But – please don't say anything about – well." The door opens hesitantly.

Grantaire gapes. Enjolras' room is ashambles. The duvet is half falling off the bed, the drawers are tipped out onto the floor and the chair is knocked over. The only clear patch of space is a little Enjolras-shaped hole on the carpet where it's been obvious he's just been sitting miserably for however long he's refused to come out before Grantaire could get here.

"I lost my temper a bit," says Enjolras sheepishly. "Also I can't stop thinking about Marius. It's infuriating. And I _like_ it. Please tell me you found a cure."

Grantaire looks down at his hands. He's never tested his feelings like this before. "I need to tell you something." He inhales. Exhales quickly, gets it out whilst he still has the courage to say it. "I'm in love with you."

Enjolras stares.

"And it's not a curse," he adds quickly. "I mean. I _think_ I am. Who really knows if something is true love, you know? I don't. Anyway. I have been for a, a while now. But erm. They say true love's kiss cures everything."

Enjolras is still staring at him, as if Grantaire is a potion induced hallucination, and Grantaire suddenly knows exactly how miserable and ridiculous and embarrassed Marius felt when he stumbled out of the room earlier. "You're in love with me," croaks Enjolras. "And you have been for a _while_? How long is a while?"

"Couple of years," says Grantaire, heart thumping so loudly in his chest he can hear it in his ears.

Enjolras licks his lips. "Grantaire, what – I can't ask you to do this for me."

"I'm offering."

Enjolras looks at him with such soft, caring eyes that Grantaire wants to flinch away, rescind his offer and go hide in Cambodia for another year. "What if it's not true love?"

Grantaire laughs, and it feels like shards of glass are slicing through his throat. "Then I'll get over it, I'm sure."

"What if it _is_ true love?" Trust Enjolras to get to the heart of the problem immediately.

Grantaire ducks his head. "Then nothing. I promise. Nothing changes." He licks his lips. "So. Will you let me kiss you?"

Enjolras smiles sadly at him. "Please."

Grantaire leans forward and presses their lips together. A fizzle of magic sparks between their lips and they both jolt back, eyes wide. "Did it work?"

Enjolras presses his fingers to his lips. "I – I don't know. Marius!" He calls, tumbling through to the living room. Marius stands up, eyes wide, and Enjolras stares at him for a long, long moment. He presses a hand to his stomach. "I – It worked. I think."

The words ring hollow in Grantaire's ears and when Enjolras swings around to look at him, he can see the happiness – and the distress – mirrored in his face. "Oh, Gran _taire_ ," says Enjolras, and Grantaire suddenly finds himself blinking tears away furiously.

"Stop that," he snaps. "Don't you dare feel sorry for me, you ridiculous person. Be happy for yourself."

Enjolras steps forward and warps his arms around Grantaire, his arms impossibly strong until Grantaire can't tell if it's the hug or if his chest really is that tight. "Thank you," he says, and it sounds like _I'm sorry_.

"Any time," says Grantaire. When Enjolras finally steps back, Grantaire laughs shakily. And then sways. Enjolras catches him in alarm.

"Jetlag," says Grantaire weakly.

"What?"

"He portalled himself here," says Combeferre from behind them. "Also, it's the middle of the night in Cambodia right now."

Enjolras slings Grantaire's arm over his shoulder. "You portalled?! Grantaire! Honestly, I – I'd have been – I mean, _honestly_. You should get some rest."

The others chime in with similar sentiments, and Grantaire somehow finds himself being herded back into Enjolras's room. "Wha –"

"You need to rest," says Enjolras quietly, fondly. "Portalling takes a lot out of you."

"I know that," says Grantaire stupidly, sleepily. "I just – needed to be here. For you."

"Thank you," says Enjolras again, and tucks Grantaire into his bed. The sheets smell of fabric softener and Enjolras's conditioner, and Enjolras wedges himself up next to Grantaire, sitting up so Grantaire's head lolls onto his leg. "And now, I'm going to be here for you. Get some rest."

"We should talk," says Grantaire reluctantly, muffled into the denim of Enjolras's jeans.

"We will," says Enjolras, and makes it sound like a promise, not a threat. "Later."

A soft glow emanates from his fingers and Grantaire grumbles his assent before Enjolras sweeps the hair back off his forehead and there's a cool touch at his temples; Grantaire exhales, and lets himself fall into sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> Come find me on [tumblr](http://defractum.tumblr.com)!


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